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My crew spent three months teaching an undercover detective how to be a better criminal, not knowing he was wearing a wire the whole time and using our own advice to arrest other gangs around the city.

This was back in 2005 when I was running with the Eastside Kings in Detroit. I was 19, stupid, and thought I was untouchable. We sold druigs, boosted cars, and thought we owned our neighborhood.

That summer, this new guy Marcus started hanging around our usual spots. He was maybe 25, claimed he'd just moved from Chicago after some "heat" back home. Said he needed to lay low and make some quick money.

Marcus was terrible at being a criminal. Like, embarrassingly bad.

His first week, he tried to sell weed to an obvious soccer mom in broad daylight right in front of a school. We had to pull him away before he got us all arrested.

"Man, what's wrong with you?" I asked him. "You don't sell to suburban ladies during school pickup. That's like asking to get busted."

"My bad," he said. "Different rules here than Chicago."

We started teaching him basic street smarts. Don't deal near schools. Don't trust anyone who looks too clean. Always have an escape route. Watch for unmarked cars.

Marcus was like a eager student, always asking questions. "How do you spot an undercover cop?" "What time do patrol shifts change?" "Where do you stash product so it can't be found?"

We thought we were helping out a new crew member. Really, we were giving a detective a masterclass in street operations.

The weird thing was, Marcus never participated in anything illegal himself. He'd watch deals go down, ask questions about our methods, but always had an excuse when it came time to actually break the law.

"I'm still learning the area," he'd say. Or "Let me observe a few more times first."

Three months in, I noticed something strange. Other gangs around the city were getting busted left and right, but somehow the cops always knew exactly where to find their stash houses and when to catch them with proof.

The Westside Crew got raided during a deal that only our crew knew about. The Southside Boys got caught using the exact same car boost method we'd explained to Marcus.

One night, I was watching the news and saw footage of a drug bust. The reporter mentioned that police had received "detailed intelligence about criminal operations and methods."

That's when it clicked.

I called an emergency crew meeting the next day. Marcus showed up like usual, asking how everyone was doing and if there was any "work" happening.

"Marcus," I said, "how long have you been a cop?"

His face went white. For about five seconds, he tried to deny it. Then he just sighed.

"Detective Marcus Williams, Detroit PD. And you're all under arrest."

That's when about fifteen cops came out of hiding spots around the warehouse we used as a meetup.

As they were putting us in handcuffs, Marcus actually looked apologetic. "For what it's worth, you guys taught me more about street operations in three months than the academy did in six."

During processing, we found out Marcus had been recording everything. Every conversation about dealing, every explanation of criminal methods, every piece of "advice" we'd given him.

But here's the kicker - he hadn't been gathering evidence against us specifically. He'd been using our tutorials to bust other gangs. We'd basically trained an undercover cop to be more effective at taking down criminals.

The prosecutor offered me a deal to testify about Marcus's methods in exchange for reduced charges. Turns out, his "undercover tutoring" operation had led to 47 arrests across five different gangs.

I took the deal, did eight months instead of three years, and used the time to get my GED and think about what I wanted to do with my life.

Marcus actually visited me in county jail once. "No hard feelings," he said. "You helped me understand how this world really works. Maybe now I can help you understand how the legal world works."

Ironically, the cop who tricked us ended up teaching me more about life than anyone in my gang ever did.